


A Criminal Kind Of Love

by Wildcard



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 03:02:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11500413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildcard/pseuds/Wildcard
Summary: All politicians are liars and all yakuza are heartless.Put like that, what other professions could Imayoshi and Hanamiya pursue?





	1. at the start of all things

“He will be a problem for us,” Imayoshi says, drawing lazy circles on Hanamiya’s bare stomach with his fingertips. 

On the TV, the film Imayoshi had shot of Kirisaki Daichi’s next opponent is just coming to an end. It had been a boring match to Hanamiya’s way of thinking, no fouls or hate, just skilled players outmaneuvering each other.

“Us?” Hanamiya echoes mockingly. “I didn’t know you were thinking of transferring.”

“I’m not,” Imayoshi says, calm as always. He pinches a bruised and swollen nipple for Hanamiya’s cheek and Hanamiya groans, replete but always, always hungry for more. “But if you lose to them, we’ll play them next.”

“It’s just Seirin. You can take them.”

Imayoshi flicked the same nipple again. “Perhaps. Unlike you, we have no Uncrowned Kings.”

He watches Hanamiya’s face, sees the understanding dawn and then be quickly hidden. Ah. So Hanamiya wants to have Imayoshi ask. Very well. He can play the petitioner.

“It would,” Imayoshi says casually, “Be very convenient for Touou if we didn’t need to worry about Kiyoshi Teppei.”

“Yeah,” Hanamiya drawls, shifting a little so he can stamp the imprint of his mouth against Imayoshi’s lips in what passes for a kiss in Hanamiya’s world. “It would.”

*

“I’m running for President of the Student Council Committee,” Imayoshi informs Hanamiya next time he visits Hanamiya. He gives Hanamiya brochures - not his own, but his opponent’s. Even Imayoshi will admit that the smiling boy on the front looks very Presidential.

“Is that your competition?” Hanamiya asks, running a thumb over the glossy face.

“The only one that matters. I can defeat the others easily.”

Hanamiya grins; the paper tears right down the middle, right through the boy’s face, and Imayoshi knows that he will win the race.

The biggest problem will be acting sufficiently surprised when he hears of whatever befalls the boy.

*

“Why do you even want to marry her?” Hanamiya asks bitterly. The bottle of sake is half-empty and Hanamiya’s holding a shot glass like a dart. He’s a weapon armed and primed; he always has been but Imayoshi has always known how to direct Hanamiya towards his enemy like a leashed hurricane.

“All monsters need a mask,” Imayoshi says and takes the glass out of Hanamiya’s hand. He’s not surprised when Hanamiya grabs his tie and yanks him down into a fierce kiss.

It’s the first time Hanamiya’s kisses have tasted of something other than blood and chocolate.

*

Imayoshi never needs to get his hands dirty. He has Hanamiya for that.


	2. the spider's web

Imayoshi’s fingers paused halfway through pushing the shirt off Hanamiya’s shoulders. As the white fabric exposed the pale skin underneath, lines of black were shown in stark relief. They radiated out from some hidden central point (his shoulder, Imayoshi could tell, his mind completing the pattern hidden by the cloth) in thin, gauzy spikes.

“A spiderweb,” Imayoshi said, tone dancing on the knife edge between amusement and mockery. “Really, you don’t think that’s just a little obvious?”

“Tattoos aren’t illegal,” Hanamiya countered, shrugging impatiently to make the shirt slide off his shoulders and flutter down to the floor. The expanse of rippling, lean muscle would have been admired by Imayoshi at any other time but now, Imayoshi only had eyes for the spiderweb tattoos that adorned both Hanamiya’s shoulders, wrapping over his back and front and down his arms like short cap sleeves.

“But they are suspicious. People still think that only the yakuza have tattoos.” Imayoshi ran his fingers along the dark lines of ink, then bent his head to trace them with his tongue. How long did tattoos take to heal? How long had it been since he’d last seen Hanamiya?

Hanamiya shivered, his voice a little rougher as he said, “Old people. They’re becoming more fashionable for the newer generation - for us.”

Imayoshi bit down, sinking his teeth in over the jut of Hanamiya’s shoulderbone and Hanamiya’s legs buckled; he sat down abruptly, pulling Imayoshi onto the bed with him.

“Didn’t think you were the type to be so old-fashioned, senpai. Assuming I’m yakuza just because of a tattoo...” A quiver appeared in Hanamiya’s voice as he braced himself on the bed, tilting his head back to give Imayoshi access to his throat.

Imayoshi ignored it and bit over the spiderwebs again. He mouthed at the bite mark, sucking harshly, then pulled away to lick at the seam of Hanamiya’s mouth. Against the other’s lips, he murmured, “A new yakuza family springs up, calling itself the Spider’s Web instead of by a family name, and you get a new tattoo? Didn’t think you were the type to expect me to be stupid. Assuming I’m ignorant just because I’m a politician now...”

The next shudder that ran through Hanamiya was a laugh as he locked his legs around Imayoshi’s waist and rocked up against him eagerly.

“Tell me, then.” Hanamiya demanded. “Tell me everything you’ve heard about the Spider’s Web.”

“Narcissist,” Imayoshi mock-accused with another bite.

“Yes,” Hanamiya said and his eyes gleamed.


	3. mistakes are made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imayoshi has to ask for help. Hanamiya gets the wrong idea.

“I made a mistake,” Imayoshi says and the sheer surprise of having Imayoshi say that keeps Hanamiya silent for a moment before he laughs his jackal laugh and leans in, leering at Imayoshi as he drapes an arm around him.

“And now you need me to clean it up?” He asks, still grinning at having Imayoshi come to him to fix a mistake of his. Usually Imayoshi comes to him to head off problems. 

“You can’t,” Imayoshi says and something about his tone kills Hanamiya’s amusement. He lets his arm drop down, drawing away a little.

“Why not?” The question is almost belligerent; questioning Hanamiya’s skills is not something that smart people do and Imayoshi should be smarter than this.

“Because she’s already told her family about the pregnancy.”

Oh. Oh.

Understanding hits like a thunderbolt and Hanamiya bares his teeth at Imayoshi in an unmistakable snarl.

“You were fucking her?” He doesn’t even know why he’s surprised. Of course Imayoshi had to marry well - and date a series of beautiful, publicly acceptable women - but for some reason, Hanamiya had thought that Imayoshi never really progressed too far with them. Weren’t good girls supposed to wait until marriage?

Imayoshi raises an eyebrow in silent disapproval of that reaction; Hanamiya’s snarl settles down into a scowl.

“You were fucking her and you were too stupid to use protection,” he concludes, pulling a laugh up out of somewhere. “I’m disappointed in you, Shoichi.”

“It’s not mine,” Imayoshi says and Hanamiya refuses to admit the emotion he feels is anything like relief. They’re hardly a couple, they aren’t exclusive, he doesn’t care who Imayoshi sticks his dick in as long as he doesn’t bring any illnesses to Hanamiya.

“But she’s saying it is?” Hanamiya asks. This is much more solvable now.

Imayoshi nods. “I can’t shame her publicly by saying it isn’t mine. Her family would never forgive me and the damage to my reputation would be immense.”

“So you want me to find the boyfriend and, what, make him confess?” Hanamiya asks, mind racing. “Make him step forwards to claim the brat and prove that it’s his?”

Imayoshi nods again. The corners of his mouth are tense so Hanamiya steps forwards to kiss them lightly.

“Relax,” he croons, good humor fully regained now. “I’ll take care of everything, just like I always do. You can trust me, Shoichi.”

Both of them laugh at the thought of trust having anything to do with their relationship.


	4. i love you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I love you" is hilarious coming from Imayoshi's lips.

“I love you,” Imayoshi says and Hanamiya laughs with delight like a baby seeing bubbles for the first time.

“It sounds so unbelievably stupid when you say it,” Hanamiya says, chuckling still. “Say it again.”

Imayoshi’s teeth flash in a smile. “I love you.”

The discordance of it (Imayoshi! As if he is even capable of love!) is the best joke that Hanamiya has ever heard.

He rolls on the floor with laughter, clutching his sides. Eventually his sides start to ache but Imayoshi won’t let up. Whenever Hanamiya’s laughter starts to subside, Imayoshi says ‘I love you’ again with that perfect sincerity and then Hanamiya’s lost to helpless laughter once more.

“God,” he says when Imayoshi finally tires of torturing him and allows Hanamiya to sprawl over the bed again with his head in Imayoshi’s lap. “There are girls out there who would actually believe it if you told them that with that face.”

“Yes,” Imayoshi agrees, combing his fingers through Hanamiya’s hair. Hanamiya grins up at him, so pleased with the thought, that Imayoshi says again, “I love you.”

*

Hanamiya says ‘I like this’ or ‘I like you’ a lot. He says it carelessly with almost Western indifference, throwing it around to his teammates when they perform well or commenting even on a brand of chocolate that he especially likes.

He never says ‘I love you’. He never says it back to Imayoshi.

(If he said it, he wouldn’t be lying and he knows Imayoshi would see that in an instant.)

*

Hanamiya gets an invitation to the wedding, of course. He’s not seated at the front, nowhere near the family and the important wedding guests, but halfway down. The acoustics in the hall are wonderful; every word of the priest’s boring speech is carried clearly down to Hanamiya. 

He sits through the exchange of nuptial cups, through the priest’s vows, through their agreement to the vows. He heads to the reception and is a perfect guest - until it’s time for the speeches. Imayoshi stands up to toast his bride and goes on about her many virtues until Hanamiya is openly rolling his eyes. Everyone knows this is a marriage of political convenience. He doubts that Imayoshi has even spoken to the girl for more than a few hours before this.

For just a second, Imayoshi’s gaze catches Hanamiya’s. Hanamiya smirks at him and Imayoshi turns back to his bride.

Very clearly and distinctly, Imayoshi says, “I love you.”

Hanamiya doesn’t laugh.


	5. settling scores

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> revenge is mine, saith the politician

Imayoshi is the master of the passive-aggressive vengeance. He does it specifically to Hanamiya because he knows that Hanamiya far prefers actual confrontations where he can put his use of how to break someone to good (that is bad) use.

That’s why, when Hanamiya’s brakes fail on his car and he skids into a snowdrift, he knows exactly whom to blame.

Yelling at Imayoshi over the phone is no good. Like any savvy politician, Imayoshi never commits to anything over the phone. And he’s paranoid about his office being bugged so that’s useless as well.

Very well. Hanamiya will just have to wait.

*

He waits through dinner. He waits through the girl (such a pretty thing, only 5 years old, taking after her mother) being put to bed. He waits through Imayoshi’s respectful wife (she comes from such a good family, she’s so well-connected) going to bed.

And then he lets himself in through the front door. He doesn’t wipe his boots on the hallway mat; wet, muddy footprints mark his walk through the house to Imayoshi’s study.

The servants will clean them up before Imayoshi’s wife ever sees them but Hanamiya takes a peculiar delight in disrupting the ordered perfection of Imayoshi’s life anyway.

He doesn’t knock on the door. He swings it open, ignores the gun that Imayoshi has pointed at his chest and smirks.

“Cutting my breaks, Shoichi? I’m impressed you even knew where they were. I never thought of you as mechanically minded.” 

He strolls over to the desk as Imayoshi puts the gun back in its drawer. When Imayoshi smiles at him as if he were an expected guest, Hanamiya fights the urge to kiss him hard enough to leave him bloody-mouthed.

He has a TV interview the next morning, after all, and this game they’re playing has rules.

 

“I did some research,” Imayoshi says, sitting back down on his chair. He folds his hands on the armrest; the chair creaks as Hanamiya drops onto Imayoshi’s lap, straddling Imayoshi’s lap with his knees on either side of Imayoshi’s thighs. The soft, well-padded leather chair is more than large enough for the two of them and when Hanamiya rocks his hips forwards experimentally, the chair doesn’t skid.

Heh.

“Remember doing it like this in the Student Council Room?” Hanamiya asked as his hands unbuttoned Imayoshi’s shirt.

“Yes,” Imayoshi confirms. “You were a lot lighter then.”

His smirk is so sharp that Hanamiya has to lean down and kiss it - and then bite it, even as Imayoshi thrashes and shoves at his chest in a futile attempt to stop Hanamiya before he draws blood.

When Hanamiya draws back, it’s with blood coated lips and a smirk of his own.

Hanamiya has always liked breaking the rules. Even twenty years on, fouls are still the best part of playing.


	6. either the wallpaper goes or I do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanamiya gives Imayoshi an ultimatum.

“Either the wallpaper goes, or I do,” Hanamiya pronounced, hands clasped behind his back as he studied the new wallpaper with obvious distaste. His mobile mouth was screwed up and his nose wrinkled as he took in the pattern of little blue flowers against a white background. “How can you stand it?”

“First of all,” Imayoshi began as he leaned back in his desk chair, “You don’t live here. This isn’t your house. You have no right to complain about the wallpaper.”

He held up his hand to silence Hanamiya, seeing him open his mouth to protest, “Secondly, you have to go. Eventually. I don’t want you staying here longer than necessary. I don’t even want you here in the first place. You just keep breaking in and one day, my wife will catch that, and that’s the end of our career.”

He gestured at the admittedly twee wallpaper and finished, “So in fact, the wallpaper’s not going. You are.”

Hanamiya crossed his arms over his chest and changed tactics, “That wallpaper’s better suited for a nursery than for an office. What was your wife thinking?”

“That I spend most of the day out at the office anyway.” Honestly, defending his wife’s taste was hard. Imayoshi hadn’t married her for her interior decorating skills, after all. “And I told her once that blue is my favorite color.”

“...Your favorite color is black,” Hanamiya said after a surprised second, “Why did you tell her blue?”

“It sounded more innocent.”

“And now you have innocent blue flowered wallpaper,” Hanamiya shot back. He sighed, then sauntered behind the desk to clap Imayoshi on the shoulder. “Have you ever considered suing for divorce? That wallpaper has to count as cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Makoto-chan,” Imayoshi said in his most sickly-sweet voice, “Did you really break in here just to discuss the wallpaper?”

“...No.” 

*

Three days later, Imayoshi came home to find police parked in front of the house, his wife being interviewed by the sergeant and the press snapping photos of everything possible. That included him as he got out of the car; Imayoshi made sure to plaster on a noble, calm expression as he walked slowly from the car to the front door so they’d have plenty of time to take photos.

When he was informed that someone had broken into his house and sprayed terrible slurs all over the wallpaper in his study, he knew at once that it was personal, not political.

He also knew the publicity he’d get from being the victim of a political attack would more than outweigh the inconvenience of changing the damn wallpaper. 

Hanamiya had won again.


	7. a few more percentage points

A beautiful wife and children are an asset to any (male) politician’s career. They show the public that he is a fine, upstanding, virile man.   
  
The problem is living with the window dressing can get a little dull.  
  
*  
  
“Nice kids,” Hanamiya says, running his thumb over the glass of the picture frame. “They take after her too.”  
  
His white flash of teeth in a smile is an insult worse than a slap. “Sure they’re all yours?”  
  
“Does it matter if they aren’t?” Imayoshi retorts coolly, his fingers tracing the line of a scar that runs right over Hanamiya’s spine. He put it there; remembering the parting of the flesh under his scalpel and Hanamiya’s _moan_ still makes him harder than anything his lovely wife does.  
  
“Which one’s your favorite?” Hanamiya asks, arching so that his dark hair shifts over the white pillowcase. The linen’s trimmed with lace and straight from France; Imayosh’s never understood his wife’s obsession with Paris but he indulges her, just as she indulges him.  
  
Not that she knows about this. Oh no. Even the most loving of wives has their limit.  
  
“Asano,” Imayoshi says without any hesitation. The middle child is the quietest and least demanding.  
  
“...This one?” Hanamiya’s finger tip presses against the glass and covers her face.   
  
“Yes.” Imayoshi’s hand finds the curve of Hanamiya’s hip and rests there. “Why?”  
  
“I was just thinking,” Hanamiya says, lazily replete, “That a tragedy would help you shoot up the polls. Get you that sweet sympathy vote.”  
  
“I’m winning anyway.”  
  
“Yes,” Hanamiya says. Imayoshi puts his hand over Hanamiya’s mouth lightly so he can feel Hanamiya’s smile brand itself into his palm, so he can shiver as Hanamiya’s tongue licks the words into the creases of Imayoshi’s skin. “But why settling for winning when you could crush them and your pretty wife too?”  
  
Performing his marital duties has always been easier when she’s crying. He can tell her it’s to make a new baby to replace Asano; she’ll permit it, he knows, but she’ll cry all the while.  
  
Desires stirs in Imayoshi, sharp and hungry, and he hooks his fingers inside Hanamiya’s mouth to roll him over.  
  
“Do it,” he orders, and Hanamiya’s smile says that he would have done it with or without permission.  
  
*  
  
Asano’s funeral is a beautiful affair. His wife keeps on a perfect porcelain mask the whole while. Their other two children sob and cling to her hands while Imayoshi plays the grief stricken patrician.  
  
As the priest recites the prayers, Imayoshi thinks of Hanamiya’s words: _Children are so frail. Let’s leave your wife for last._


	8. the road not taken

It was very rare for Hanamiya to stay the night. A politician couldn’t be caught having an affair, let alone one with a man - let alone a man who was the head of the Spider Web’s yakuza.  
  
For the sake of Imayoshi’s reputation, Hanamiya almost always slips out once they’re done, leaving Imayoshi to go upstairs to his marriage bed and his waiting wife. Imayoshi’s wife, however, was currently staying with her heavily pregnant sister.  
  
It left a space in Imayoshi’s life where Hanamiya could insinuate himself, sneaking in through the window but then stretching out as if he belonged there.  
  
The years had been kind to the both of them. Hanamiya had more muscle than when they’d been teenagers but he was still rangey, tall and lean with tattoos spread all over his skin. Spiderwebs spun over his shoulders like epaulettes, the raised red lines left by Imayoshi’s nails marring the delicate artwork.  
  
Hanamiya was older but he’d lost none of the confidence and self-control he’d had as a teenager. Sprawled out on his back, shoulder length black hair tousled and messy around his face, Hanamiya looked at ease. As if this was his bed, his home, his husband.  
  
For just a second, Imayoshi let himself imagine that it was. What if he’d taken Hanamiya under his wing when they graduated? Hanamiya was charming and brilliant. He would have made a good aide. Hanamiya’s love of playing dirty would have come in useful to smear his opponents and force them to concede. Imayoshi could have fucked him before charity dinners, used Hanamiya’s mouth to calm himself down before giving a speech.  
  
...But he never could have married him. Not without quitting politics.  
  
So. What if he’d taken a different path? What if he had become a lawyer, as he’d sometimes wanted? Hanamiya could have gone into law easily. He was a natural liar, talented and terribly immoral. They could have had a partnership together, opened a small firm of their own and then made it grow. Gay marriage wasn’t legal in Japan but perhaps if they flew to Europe for the ceremony and then returned with matching rings, it’d be enough.  
  
They could have had a house together. He could have woken up every morning to this sight.  
  
But that was just what could have been and in the end, Imayoshi was a practical man. Why waste time staring at Hanamiya instead of waking him up to enjoy what time they had left together?  
  
This was the reality of their relationship: every moment was precious.


	9. eliminate the competition

“The press are still there,” Hanamiya says and Imayoshi groans. There are new lines in the corners of his eyes that weren’t there before the death of his wife, a new tiredness to his countenance that isn’t entirely feigned for the media’s sake.

“Vultures,” Imayoshi mutters tiredly, sipping at his tea. “If only we could get away. Maybe head up North, do some fishing…”

“Fishing’s boring.” Hanamiya flops down onto the couch, confidently graceless, and leans against Imayoshi. “Playing with the media’s more fun.”

“You haven’t said anything to them--” Imayoshi cuts himself off before he can ask ‘have you’? Of course Hanamiya hasn’t. He’s a yakuza boss. The last thing he needs is publicity.

“I don’t need to talk to them to toy with them, senpai,” Hanamiya says and kisses the corner of Imayoshi’s mouth. “Don’t worry. They’ll realize soon enough you didn’t kill your wife and then when the tide turns, you’ll be flooded with positive articles about your suffering and how it was worsened by being hounded by the media in your time of grief.”

“Is that a promise, Makoto?” Imayoshi wants to hear Hanamiya say it, wants a leash and a collar spun of Hanamiya’s own words, but Hanamiya smirks instead of smiling.

“It’s a prediction.”

*

A blistering op-ed about what a good, trustworthy politician Imayoshi is and how well he has served their country is published. The tide of public opinion swings as all the other reporters self-flagellate.

Apologies and retractions fill the newpapers while online, political blogs pontificate about the tendency of the police to always suspect the husband.

*

“Imayoshi-san, if you could think back to anything suspicious at all about the day your wife died…” The police officer is barely managing to be civil but Imayoshi’s fixed smile hasn’t faded.

“I’m sorry, officer. I can’t think of anything new that I haven’t told you during the other interviews.” 

His lawyer’s sitting in on the interview and nods his approval of the answer. 

Hanamiya’s off somewhere in the city’s dark underbelly, spinning his spider’s web. His wife’s carcass is decaying on Hanamiya’s thread, rotting slowly until it’ll be soft enough for both Hanamiya and Imayoshi to suck all the publicity and power from it. 

Imayoshi won’t give Hanamiya up. Hanamiya will never betray him.

When the time is right and the public’s interest is starting to wane, Hanamiya will produce a convenient patsy and the media will surge to cover the story anew. 

*

The enemy is everyone who isn’t them.


End file.
